


Moment of Calm

by fireandrain



Category: The Hunger Games
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:36:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandrain/pseuds/fireandrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They lay there, listening to the heartbeat of the other, surrounded by light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moment of Calm

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this super short drabble I wrote. I'm a huge lover of Annie/Finnick and I saw Mockingjay: Part 2 today so I thought it was a great time to create something with these two.

They lay there, listening to the heartbeat of the other, surrounded by light. 

Her head is rested on the thumping of his bared chest, hair splayed out and tickling his lips, she’s calm. Her eyes, bright and clear, trail down his arm, memorizing each hill and curve. His hands smooth out the nape of her neck, swiping at the perspiration that billows on her skin from the summer air, the windows are open to let in nighttime mist. There is no past, there is not future, they are only beings belonging to the words they breathe, the motions they conceive, the love they share. 

He breaks the silence.

“If you could be anything, what would it be?” Finnick’s voice, hushed, light and stuffed with intrigue, stirs her. 

Annie’s middle finger circles the base of his chest, her fingernail dancing as his heart thumps, her smile settles the soul into her body once more. It was easy to disappear, easy to float away and find it so hard to make her way back. No one understood her when it happened, couldn’t help her tether her feet back on the ground, to stop her palms from feeling so heavy, no one could hold her like he could. 

“That’s the question you came up with?” Sweet and soft, her head lifts to take one look at him, drinking in the green in his eyes. Ethereal, foamy, natural green eyes that smooth out the corners of her head, making all the bad thoughts dissolve. 

“Well, the question game we’ve built is fairly liberal to all questions I think.” He smiles at her, straight, glowing teeth that ache after each day. 

Teeth that have encased leather crops and wooden blocks, teeth that had chattered in fear from each client, teeth that have ached as secrets swirled in his ears. He was beautiful. Beautiful and scrambling for the ability to feel touch and no longer cringe, beautiful and struggling to hold his love in his arms without wanting to jump out of his skin. It was her eyes, Mother Earth eyes, however, that sedated his fears, her soft voice and gentle ways that kept him afloat after each night of work. 

She guided him back to the feelings of love, even when the world seemed so dark. 

Her breasts heaved as she let out a languid sigh, her rosy lips spread out in a tiny grin. Her fingertips careened on the outskirts of his bicep, dipping into the crevice of an aging scar. A client scar. She ignored the zap in her brain, fought back the tears that dared break through the corners of her eyes, she looked into his eyes and held on for him. 

“I-I would want to be the moon.” 

The wind began to whistle out from their room, Victors’ Village teeming with the emptiness that evenings give. Finnick’s bedroom had been renovated by the Capitol time and time again, Snow’s demands keeping him up to date on the latest trends. Minimalism was in, surprisingly. A single wooden headboard adorned with an even simpler concoction of white sheets and pillows. One oak dresser, mirror, and wooden floors gave his room the feeling of a stilled throat. No life, no heart, only demands. And Finnick complied, he either sank or swam, there was no middle ground. 

His left hand wound in her hair, the knots of passed nights caught his knuckles, he didn’t dare move them. ‘Dark hair, Annie’s hair, this was not their hair, never their hair.’ His thoughts were itching in the back of his throat, urging him to lash out, to scream. He looked into her eyes and fought hard, harder than he ever could before. 

“The moon? I like the sound of that, Annie Cresta, the Moon Goddess.” He smirked, leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead. She tasted of sea salt and sunshine, something he wished to never let go. 

“So far away, surrounded by shifting stars.” She laughed at this, thinking of each winking star dancing around her, her face carved in the night sky. In a way, she couldn’t find why this was so humorous, but to laugh, oh to laugh, was so much more rewarding than to go inward again. 

“I would be the sun then, always right behind you, with you.” Finnick whispered to her, both arms moving over to bring her closer to his body. Annie could smell the sand on his skin and mint on his breath. She curled herself in his chest, keeping his heartbeat on her cheek, he was there, never going away. 

He looked down on her, his sheets slowly shifting away from her back, exposing her naked frame as seconds melted away into minutes, and never wanted to let her go. They held on to each other in the peace that they created. A bird twittered in the distance, the ocean lapping up the remnants of the fishermen’s latest excursions, the moon’s light rolled into the bedroom.

There was a time when he could feel skin on his own and never feel contempt for the person he was. There was a time when she could meander through the waves of the sea and recount on childhood memories. Where the Earth had been much kinder and the people far more brighter, where there was no fear, no apprehension, no stolen nights of tears and shallow breaths. This was before Finnick had lost count of new scars on his body from rough clients and petty murmurs. This was before Annie had felt the weight of the past on her shoulders, shaking her, screaming at her, never letting her go. 

In a way, they are both the past and the future for the other. Where Annie is gentle hugs and deep kisses on his lips and Finnick is bubbling laughter and yellow happiness warming her skin. They are the goodness that comes in finding true love, even in the most unfortunate of worlds to find it in.

“My Annie, the Moon Goddess.” 

Her lids grow heavy, his chest falling in exhaustion, they can only hold on to each other.

“My Finnick, the Sun God, always there.” 

Sleep was just another moment of calm.


End file.
